


Banner (FFXIVWrite2020 Day 9 - Lush)

by Ivelia



Series: FFXIV Write 2020 [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26388766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivelia/pseuds/Ivelia
Summary: Part of my attempt for #FFXIVWrite2020 - September 9 (Day 9 - Lush)A certain Ascian fails to understand Zenos[’ hair choices](Not tagging said Ascian because it's spoilery af, please do not read if you haven't cleared patch 5.3 ^^" [MSQ and the Werlyt questline])
Series: FFXIV Write 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906951
Kudos: 2





	Banner (FFXIVWrite2020 Day 9 - Lush)

As usual, presenting his report on their project’s advancements to his newest master was a  _ difficult  _ exercise. As difficult as the man himself, who was a picture of boredom incarnate as he sat on his hard throne, leaning his elbow on the armrest, supporting his head as if it weighed a tonze, as if he was on the verge of falling asleep through a particularly tedious lecture. Was he even listening? Was he even awake? Was he even  _ alive _ ? He wanted so much to see him tick, to see  _ something else _ than affected ennui on that poseur’s face. 

\- (Ah, but there’s always  _ that _ ) A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes.

\- “Also, there’s this thing… There are reports from the VIIth that they were forced to retreat from Terncliff base in the Werlyt area due to the intervention of an unknown machine, probably from Garlond Ironworks.” He paused dramatically, checking discreetly whether he had hooked his quarry. No reaction yet, not even a yawn. “Rumor has it that it was manned by the Warrior of Light herself”. Fandaniel turned to look at Zenos. As expected, it  _ worked _ . Mentioning the Champion of Light actually never failed to get a reaction from the guy, although it did take a while for him to start noticing them, as tiny as they were. This time, the newly self-appointed imperial ruler had deigned to move his long strands out of the way to side-eye him with disturbing intensity, as if to demand more details. This was almost nothing, but coming from someone that was as immovable as a mountain, this was a  _ tremendous  _ reaction. For Zodiark’s sake, this dude’s hand was even playing in his hair at that point.

He sighed internally as he contemplated at the proof of his meagre “triumph”, a half gloved hand absent-mindedly twisting the silky material. It looked soft, lush, like it would feel  _ really  _ nice to thread your hands into these long, golden strands. He barely resisted the weird urge of wanting to pet the monster’s head, probably coming from the previous owner of his temporary body. This act of madness would be akin to playing with a lion’s whiskers, that is to say, not a good plan at all (unless one’s hobby was to enjoy getting bisected, and having to find another shell  _ that useful _ was not something he was keen on at the moment,  _ thank you very much _ ). Still, this unusual hairstyle struck him as one of the various oddities of his current liege. Why the long hair?

He didn’t suddenly gain a fetish for hair, mind you. He just felt that it was important to understand his associate to avoid any surprises issues with the plan, trying to understand  _ something _ ,  _ anything _ ,  _ everything  _ about the man.  _ Knowledge is power _ , after all. And thankfully, he had a wealth of tidbits on the man from the memories of his body, courtesy of this original host, who was his self-appointed number one fan. Hair  _ this long _ probably required lots of investment in terms of upkeep in order to avoid looking like a tattered, matted mess, especially for someone that did spend time running around cleaving people while probably trying to make the most impressive blood sprays. The thing even had tiny, decorative pearls threaded in it, but it couldn’t be just to look pretty, right? Imagining the guy’s perpetually cold face smiling in narcissistic self-satisfaction as he arranged the minute ornaments in his hair every morning felt plain  _ wrong _ .  _ Nah, couldn’t be _ .

He could see how, as a youth, attendants tasked with taking care of the princeling would have wanted him to look like his great-grandfather, the then-emperor Solus zos Galvus, who in his late years, was sporting an impressive mane himself. Anything was fair game if it could foster the affection between the two, as gaining the old ruler’s favour would have reinforced his position as the continuation of the imperial bloodline, and by proxy, enhanced his father’s chances at the throne. But keeping it past the time where children are supposed to be cute accessories to their parents’ ambitions was passing strange. Especially as the young prince entered active service, as it would probably be a hazard on the battlefield. This was reinforced by the fact that he was not even putting it in his helmet like any sane man would, a thing not even ladies serving in the Imperial army, such as the Soranus sisters, or the late Livia sas Junius, did. Given his rank and status, it was not like they couldn’t make a custom Garlean helmet to fit his hairstyle.

It would have been fine if the prince served only as a decorative figurehead, but he was known to  _ love  _ to take to the field himself, for some reason. In a fight, having long locks affixed to your skull floating around, unprotected, was a handicap, possibly offering a grip to the enemy in close-quarter combat (though he would have to bow and pray to anyone actually bold enough to do that), and it was also making him highly recognizable; as if being a close to eight fulms tall monster was not enough of a target to paint on his back. And once his helmet was off, even though this soft looking hairstyle would look feminine on most males, and impact their visual momentum (even more so for him given his youthful face), the fact that he was more than able to snap people in half with sheer strength more than made up for that.

On the battlefield, his hair was beating in the wind like a magnificent golden standard, though, the jury was still out on whose cause it was for, other than his own… His presence (other than the fact that he actually was, himself, a one-man army) was not even an advantage, since his appearance struck fear in the hearts of enemies and allies alike. After all, how many of his own soldiers had he crushed himself in his lust for a good fight?

And this was but  _ one of the many things _ that made him hard to grasp, to control. Was there really nothing to understand? Or was it that he was too complex to understand? At the moment, he would have given a good part of that Brutus house fortune for a clear answer. The man was not motivated by power or status, since he had originally walked out on a perfectly  _ vacant _ throne (that they had to conquer back - with insulting ease, mind you) after committing parricide, nor, he gathered from their previous exchanges, was he interested in money.

\- (Playing court jester for such a dangerous king is such a pain…). The Ascian felt like he was sitting on a barrel of highly volatile ceruleum; it was generally harmless,  _ unless it was not _ . But having been “raised” to his post himself, he would not underestimate the other Sundered. He did not want to be the next Lahabrea, who, even as one of the core members of their little group, one of the last Unsundered, was easily struck down by the very person he had wanted to manipulate. After all, even Elidibus, the Emissary himself, had seemingly been afraid of that man, choosing to relinquish this body to its original owner and flee, rather than confront him head on. His understanding of this “artificial Echo”, the “Resonant” was frighteningly high, granting him abilities that were strangely close to theirs; and with his non-existing notions of morality, and now mortality as well, he was neither an enemy to be underestimated, nor an ally to be trusted. Also, he was somewhat disturbed by the ravenous gaze he could sometimes feel from the former crown prince's dull, bored eyes, looking, for once, at  _ him only _ , intently, taking in his every movement, as if expecting  _ something _ . Or was it just him being paranoid?

Perhaps, in the end, Zenos was nothing but a dead carcass driven by revenge, as he was singularly obsessed by the Champion of Light, who caused his original demise during the Battle for Ala Mhigo. Having already “died” once, he might not have come back unscathed from the experience. He would be closer to an angry ghost haunting his own hide, than he was to a living being, which would explain his odd behavior. He sighed internally:

\- (If the two of them were to mutually incapacitate each other, that would be so  _ nice _ .) After all, the ever faithful Fandaniel only labored to advance his Lord’s ambitions.

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt is "Lush" - first thing that went through my rotting brain was "Why am I thinking of people taking a bath? :eyes:" but no, "Lush" is [characterized by luxuriousness, opulence, etc. ]. Maybe it was still my brain association with the infamous cosmetics brand, but I couldn't get this out of my head, that is also worked for hair (it kinda does in my native language too aaaaa).  
> I'm peeved that I couldn't push a reference to Samson's tale due to it making no fucking sense in universe.  
> It's painful when you want to introduce cultural references but they make no sense...  
> Also, I'm getting out of my comfort zone by writing a PoV of a character we know nothing about aaaaaaa.  
> The fact that this is probably be 1000% non canon in a few months time is giving me anxiety, but I guess this is all about pushing yourself?


End file.
